She closed the door and went back to the fire. As she did so, a face peeped out from behind a great, carved Indian cabinet, not far from the door—a face lighted with a diabolical smile of triumph.
CHAPTER XII.
"BLACK MASK"—"WHITE MASK."
"Finish your story!" exclaimed Miriam, impatiently. "Morning is coming, and like owls and bats and other noxious creatures, I hide from the daylight. How did you escape?"
"I didn't escape," said Mollie. "I couldn't. The week expired—my masked husband kept his word and sent me home."
"Sent you! Did he not fetch you?"
"No; the man who drove the carriage—who, with the girl Sarah, witnessed the marriage—brought me. Sarah bound me, although there was no occasion, and the man led me down and put me in. Sarah accompanied me, and I was driven to the very corner here. They let me out, and, before I had time to catch my breath, were off and away."
"And that is all?" said Miriam, wonderingly.
"All! I should think it was enough. It sounds more like a chapter out of the 'Castle of Otranto,' or the 'Mysteries of Udolpho,' than an incident in the life of a modern New York belle. For, of course, you know, Madame Miriam," concluded the pretty coquette, tossing back airily all her bright curls, "I am a belle—a reigning belle—the beauty of the season!"